“His father showed up.”
“What did that bastard do?”
I take a step back and hold out the phone like it’s going to bite me. Mama. Fucking. Bear.
“What did that soulless coward do to my son?” Her hiss fills the kitchen. Yikes.
I take a breath and put the phone back to my ear. “I think there are some things that are better for Shane to tell you in person, ma’am. But it wasn’t pretty, and Shane hasn’t been all right since. None of us know what to do.”
“I’ll be on the next flight out. Where is he now?”
“Bed. Sleeping off way too much alcohol.”
A sad croon filters through the phone. “My poor baby. Tell him Momma’s coming.”
“Will do.”
“And, Jed?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Thank you for letting me know.”
FORTY
SHANE
Muted soundsand shuffling drift over me, fuzzy and far away.
My world dips.
“Baby?”
The garbled word is faint.
“Baby?”
My eyes try to open, but it’s like they’re sealed shut.
A hand drifts through my hair, and that’s when I smell it. Orange and vanilla bean.
“Momma?” I croak.
“Oh, baby. I’m here.”
My eyes flood, and now I’m desperately trying to keep them shut. My mom’s here.
And holy fucking nutballs. My head feels like someone’s slamming a sledgehammer to it repeatedly. I groan.
My mom clucks sympathetically.
I let out a watery breath, then push to sit up—and immediately freeze. Everything rocks. Oh, God.
“Easy, honey. Here, letme help you.”
Working with incredible slowness, we shift me until I’m propped up against some pillows. I let my head fall back into the pillows, my neck not up to the task of holding it up. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath.
“What are you doing here, Mom?”
